


We Took a Walk That Night

by Hatterized



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternating Timelines, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Consent Issues, Hurt Rick, M/M, Misunderstandings, Rape/Non-con Elements, assuming Negan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 05:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12336486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatterized/pseuds/Hatterized
Summary: Rick has a history, and Negan’s bad at reading the signs until it’s too late





	We Took a Walk That Night

**Author's Note:**

> Not really sure what happened here, I was in a let's-cause-Rick-pain mood the other night and started writing and couldn't stop until this was finished. Been listening to "Jenny was a friend of mine" by The Killers endlessly and thinking about Rick and Shane, so that maybe have prompted this a little, too. 
> 
> Scenes alternate between the present with Rick and Negan and the past around the end of season 2.

 

He probably should have noticed it right off- the way Rick always shrunk away, making himself impossibly smaller under Negan’s touches like he could disappear completely by the sheer force of will. Negan wrote it off every single time- _of course Rick doesn’t want me touching him, of course. Fucking killed his buddies. Served him brain soup. Of course, of course._

**\---**

After, Rick wants nothing more than to go back to the farmhouse and scrub himself clean in the shower. There’s blood, and there’s other things, and he wants it gone, wants it out of him.

Like it’s going to be so simple. Hell of a time for their safe haven to be overrun. Just his luck, he thinks. Just his fucking luck.

They don’t find another place with running water for three weeks. By the time the others have gone- of course he lets them go first, of course- the water is ice, making his fingers numb.

It doesn’t matter, not anymore, not really. He had already scourged himself as soon as he could, when he had a second of time alone. A bottle of water that had been rationed for drinking and a half-used bar of soap in the middle of the woods while the others were eating and thought he was off taking a piss.

He’d been ripped inside and out, but he already knew that, had already been feeling it every time he took a step.

Everything was dry- tacky and a still little sticky and when he scrubbed at it, it caked up under his fingernails with the dirt and made him want to throw up.

He didn’t know what they thought when he came back- eyes red-rimmed, hazy and puffy. He didn’t say a damn thing, and neither did they.

They were scared of him then because of how he’d been acting. They didn’t touch, and he counted it as a small mercy. They're still scared, he knows, can tell by the wide berth they give him.

Now, shivering under the freezing rain of the shower and completely alone, he feels better than he has in weeks.

**\---**

“Rick, Rick, Rick.”

It’s all he can say anymore, and he knows it, hears how freely he’s been letting the man’s name roll off his tongue- _“Where’s Rick? I missed you, Rick. Is Rick here? When will Rick be back? Hey there, Rick--”_

Rick seems like he takes in in stride. Leads Negan around his cute little town even with that gloomy, pale look on his beautiful face.

He never looks anything but weary and a little broken, and Negan knows it’s his fault. It should make him proud- _I did that, I broke him, this fucking badass beast of a man who took out a whole goddamn outpost with his merry band of misfits._

Instead, it makes him crave a smile, a laugh, _something_. Makes him want to be the one to put light back on Rick’s dreary visage, makes him lay awake in his bed at night and try to conjure up an image he’s never seen- what does happiness look like gracing Rick Grimes’ face?

**\---**

He doesn’t tell anyone.

He almost does- almost, sort of. _Almost_ asks Lori, because as soon as he thinks about it, it awakens a sickening bloom of suspicious horror deep in his gut.

They’ve been having a lot of problems at this point. Haven’t been talking, and he’s been withdrawn, withholding, bordering on cruel at times. But that- if _that_ had happened to her, too-

“L-Lori?”

She doesn’t even have to say anything, just looks up at him with big, sad doe eyes. _Why are you talking to me?_ they say. _I thought you hated me_ , they say.

He doesn’t hate her. Not her.

“Did Shane- did he- did he ever…?”

There are hundreds of ways to end that sentence, and he can’t blame her for not filling in the blanks. That’s as far as he gets.

**\---**

The first time he touched Rick _like that_ , he should have known. Hindsight is 20/20, after all. Too bad, so sad, his vision facing forward is absolute shit.

“ _Rick_ , baby,” he purrs low and deep, one hand skimming down the man’s chest, over worn blue denim and undone buttons.

He misreads everything, all at once- Rick’s dilated pupils, the sweat on his brow, the nervous flutter of his eyelashes and shake in his hands.

When Rick stumbles back, stammering and flushing and claiming that, “C-Carl needed me to bring him somethin’ out to the garden,” Negan takes it all wrong, thinks Rick’s _ashamed_. Thinks Rick’s got a crush on little ‘ol Negan, and doesn’t know what to do with himself over it.

So he keeps touching, and when Rick doesn’t outright tell him “no”, he takes it as a false positive.

**\---**

“Sh-Shane- what are you- what…?”

His gun has been knocked away into the tall grass, out of reach of his clawing fingers. He goes for his knife as soon as Shane lunges for him, but he’s too slow, too late, too rattled because even though he’d caught onto what Shane was doing about five minutes into their little walk through the woods, he still can’t believe it.

Shane wrestles the knife from his hands with a knee in his gut, stealing away his breath. He sinks the blade into the grass some feet away, somewhere Rick can’t reach with Shane on his hips.

He thinks that this is it- this is the end, and there’s fucking dead people risen from the grave and Rick still never would have thought this is how he would go.

His _brother_.

Except it isn’t the end, because something changes in Shane’s eyes when he looks down at Rick, all wild heat and hunger, and bloodlust turns into something that Rick isn’t prepared for.

He’s shaking, shocked, and it’s freezing outside when his shirt is ripped straight down the middle, buttons popping off and skittering in all directions as his muscles pull taught in the cold air, nipples hardening.

“What-”

It takes a minute.

It takes until Shane forces him onto his belly and jerks his jeans and underwear down until they’re at his knees.

“Shane-!”

**\---**

He catches Rick when the man is fresh out of the shower and only wrapped in a towel, and it’s like Christmas morning. Wet, curling hair and warm, flushed skin and he looks so fucking _soft_ that Negan has to touch, feel for himself.

“ _Negan_ \- I’m- I’ll be out in a minute-”

He looks pretty when he’s embarrassed, and Negan slides right up behind him, hands encircling Rick’s slim hips.

“Shh, Rick.” Still with his name. “I know what you want.”

Rick goes stock-still against him and Negan stupidly thinks “bingo.”

His hands are everywhere, greedy and groping at bare flesh. Up his chest, tugging at his nipples until he hears Rick make a small, pathetic noise that makes him throb between his legs. Down his belly, opening his towel and letting it drop to the floor.

Rick is shaking, and Negan thinks _I must be doing pretty damn good, he must need it so fucking bad-_

He ruts his hips up against Rick’s ass, so perfect and firm, fucking _made_ for him to be inside. Rick sounds ragged, all shallow, rasping breaths and Negan gives him a two-handed squeeze, smacking him a little harder than he intended across one cheek.

He jolts, and Negan holds him steady by the hips while he rubs the sting out.

“Don’t worry, Rick. Gonna take good care of you, gonna give you what you fucking need. Been waiting-”

**\---**

“-been waiting so damn long for this, Rick.”

Rick’s face is turned to the side only so he can breathe, but he wishes he couldn’t.

“I know what you want. Not _me_ you’re jealous of, is it? It’s _Lori_. I’ll give it to you. I’ll fucking give it right to you, sweetheart.”

“Shane, Shane, _please_ -”

He’s sobbing harder than he has in a very, very long time, big fat tears leaking from the corners of his eyes and into the dirt his cheek is pressed into. Every muscle in his body is clenched tight with fear, but it’s not enough to keep Shane out.

“O-oh, there we go, Rick. See, I told you I’d take care of you-”

It burns, and Rick doesn’t have the energy to hold back the throat-ripping wail that leaves him as Shane pushes inward. He tries to draw his knees closer together, tries to disappear.

It hurts, it hurts, it fucking _hurts_ and Shane’s groaning in a way that Rick’s never in his life wanted to hear and he’s drooling around his choked cries, fingers sinking into dry soil the way Shane’s fingers are digging into the soft flesh of his hips.

“No, no no _no_ -” he thinks maybe, _maybe_ if he says it, Shane will stop. Show him mercy.

He’s wrong.

**\---**

It’s about the time that he reaches around Rick’s waist and is met with softness that he starts to get a clue.

Negan’s rock-hard in his jeans, straining the denim and shoving his erection against Rick’s backside and into the cleft of his ass, and he expects Rick to be right there with him, but he’s not. His dick is soft and limp under Negan’s fingers, and there’s a long moment where Negan stands there with Rick’s completely flaccid cock resting in his hand, unsure of what’s going on.

Now that he’s managed to shut his filthy mouth for more than a couple seconds, he can hear how wet the sounds Rick’s making are.

_No._

_No, no._

He lets go of Rick and brings a hand up to his face, hoping and praying he doesn’t feel-

But he does.

His hand comes back wet and he’s almost sick all over himself and Rick at the feeling of it. He turns the man in his arms, swallowing and swallowing against a disgusted lump in his throat and nearly starts crying himself when he sees Rick’s face, flushed and dripping tears and snot, quiet, shuddering sobs wracking his frame.

Everything snaps into focus, too little, too late, and he staggers back, hand over his mouth as he sinks down on the bed.

**\---**

“You like that? Huh, Rick? You like it like this?”

He doesn’t, but it hardly matters.

There’s sticky, wet warmth where Shane keeps plunging in and out of him. It trickles down the inside of his thighs, and every thrust feels like he’s being ripped wide open. Shane keeps grabbing at his ass, smacking it raw, but the pain of it barely even registers over what _else_ is happening to him.

“I’m a better man that you, Rick. Better father to Carl, better man for Lori. You can’t fuck her like I do. Can’t fuck her like I fuck you.”

Rick certainly hopes not.

He dry heaves into the grass when he feels Shane pulsing inside of him, wetness filling him until Shane pulls out and lets the rest coat Rick’s abused backside.

He shudders, blubbering into his arms even as Shane dismounts him. He feels disgusting inside and out, utterly used and violated and _marked_ like a dog’s territory with Shane’s come dripping out of him and down his ass, mixing with his own blood.

He almost expects Shane to come at him with the knife next- how can he expect both of them to walk back to the farm after this?

Except Rick’s not going to let Shane be the one that makes it, isn’t going to let this man, this _monster_ , near Lori or Carl or the rest of their group, _his_ group.

Shane has the gall to look so fucking _surprised_ when Rick grabs the knife and guts him. There’s blood on his hands, on both their hands, and Rick should probably feel at least some remorse, but he doesn’t, not then.

“You did this to us. This is on you, not me!”

He’s crying when he screams it, still half-naked. It takes him a minute to get dressed, but he does, thankfully before Carl shows up and Rick has to explain why _uncle Shane_ is bleeding out in the dry grass.

**\---**

Rick has covered himself, cowered into himself like he’s not sure if Negan will come at him again.

Negan knows that _he_ doesn’t fucking deserve to cry, but his eyes and throat and chest burn anyway. He keeps saying it over and over like it means something.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking _sorry_ , Rick.”

He doesn’t deserve to say the man’s name.

“I thought- I thought that-” there’s no excuse, but he just needs Rick to know that it’s not going to happen again. “I thought that you- that you wanted-”

“I don’t,” Rick whispers unnecessarily to the floorboards, and Negan buries his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry.”

He’s glad that Rick doesn’t feel obligated to assure him that it’s okay, because it’s not. It’s fucking _not_ , and even though it’s going to come out sounding awful- like he blames Rick when _it’s not Rick’s fucking fault that Negan’s a piece of shit that never bothered to stop and ask if it was okay if he put his greedy hands all over him_ \- he has to ask.

“Why didn’t you tell me no?”

Rick’s answer just about guts him- “I didn’t know I could.”

He’s the lowest of the low, not worthy to lick the dirt off of Rick’s grimy, beaten-up cowboy boots.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” Like it makes a damn bit of difference.

“It’s…it’s not the first time that…that someone…” Rick starts and stops like a broken record. “It’s happened before. Someone I- he- so I thought that I could handle it this time. That if that’s what you wanted from me, I could deal with it.”

He sniffles, and the sound pierces straight through Negan’s heavy heart.

“Guess I couldn’t.”

**\---**

When Negan and the Saviors take their leave, it’s without the truckload of Alexandria’s tribute. Negan looks so fucking _wrecked_ \- doesn’t bother hiding it- so nobody dares question why.

“Won’t be back for a while, Rick,” he says gently. He’s got some shit to sort out. A week of tribute isn’t enough of an apology. It’s been a long time since he’s felt guilty about anything, and it’s like a cold bucket of water chilling him to the bone, the wake-up call he needed. “I’m gonna…it’s gonna be different. _I’m_ gonna be different.”

He’s the most undeserving piece of shit in the whole goddamned world, and yet somehow someone as wretched as him gets a glimpse of a small smile on Rick Grimes’ face.


End file.
